


If You Asked Her

by Rae_Gar_Targaryen91



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, I wrote this in college and it's terrible please don't skewer me, Not Actually Unrequited Love, On the Road with the Winchesters, One Shot, Pre-Series, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, Pre-Series Sam Winchester, Reader-Insert, Sorry this is just the worst, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 09:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae_Gar_Targaryen91/pseuds/Rae_Gar_Targaryen91
Summary: If you asked her, it just kind of happened.Or, that old trope where the reader-character is placed in the hands of John Winchester, and grows up with the boys.





	If You Asked Her

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a really long time ago, and this is my first time posting to the site. I'm hoping this will inspire me to get back into writing, and appreciate whatever comments/concerns/criticisms/compliments you may have. Cheers!

If you asked her, it just kind of happened. She’d never meant for it to, though.

She was dropped off at this guy’s house when she was twelve. Jim Murphy’s? Her dad had left her there so that she’d be “safe” while he went off and did… well, she knew. She just didn’t want to think about it. He was just going to be gone longer than usual. The day that Pastor Jim told her that her father had passed, and wouldn’t be coming back was the day that her old life had slipped away, just like the tears slipping down her cheeks and into nonexistence.  
A man with two sons, Winchester, showed up. She’d never forget the name. Apparently this John Winchester had been close friends with her dad. Hunting buddies. Yeah, exactly. She knew what that meant. How had she never met them before? 

When it came to her attention that her father had left instruction that she was to go with this plaid-and-denim-wearing band of hunters in the event of something like this, well she really started to take notice of exactly who she’d be tagging along with. A second chance at family. A different life. Or more of the same, maybe.

She’d never forget the moment she first saw the boys. Sam. Just a year older. He was cute. His shaggy dark hair was trying its hardest to conceal what she thought were the biggest, most innocent eyes she’d ever seen on a boy. Ironic, she thought, considering that with what he knew, his life was filled with far less innocence, and far more terror. More bleakness. The kid was lanky, too. Had the potential to be ridiculously tall. As it was, his older brother still had the height advantage.

His older brother. Even at 17, he was as smooth and deadly as his surname, Winchester. Dean Winchester. 

Just the sight of him took her made her mind go the slightest bit cloudy. It was true; she’d never seen anything quite like him before. Those mossy but sharp green eyes. What a contrast from Sam’s, she thought. Where Sam’s were big, bright, and full of curiosity, Dean’s were calculating, mischievous, and full of purpose. There was something else, though. They were…enthralling. That was the right word. She guessed she must have had a thing for his eyes. It’s not like the rest of him wasn’t amazing to look at… the eyes just seemed to hold her attention and never let go. He shot a smirk in her direction. The first of many. She then realized how long she had actually been staring. 

She turned to face John, looked into his sad, weathered face, and shook his hand. He welcomed her to the band.

Life on the road with the Winchesters was never dull, she could say at least that much. And it was tiring. Place to place they would go, never to stay in one spot very long. It made her miss her old house. And her dad. Especially her dad. 

John would leave them set up in some motel, or an apartment if they were going to be in one place for a longer period of time. Dean was in charge. Dean was always in charge. John instructed him, every single time he left, to “watch out for the kids.” Dean never failed. Not under John’s orders. 

Growing up with the hunters, you had to grow up fast. Changes and all. She wasn’t the skinniest girl. Whatever. She’d never really paid attention to her own looks, or anything like that. She was fit, though. John’s excruciating training routines saw to that. Sam was always her sparring partner. She suspected it was because John thought that she wasn’t up to par to face off against Dean. 

Watching Dean and Sam spar together was like a very violent ballet. Reaching that level of deadly grace became her new goal. She was strong. That much was clear. She had potential. Or, at least, that’s what she kept hearing John kept muttering, Dean nodding fervently, as though they were in some secret conference. Dean always agreed with John. Always.

Years passed. School was a bitch. She never was in high school with Dean, being a year behind Sam, and all. But Dean was restless and unhappy in high school. He would vent to Sam, shouting that it wasn’t fair that “Dad didn’t take him along this time. It was his fight, too.” She wanted to comfort him. Wanted to go over to him and say something. But it seemed a little too personal. Like there was a barrier there. She knew how it felt, though. After all, her father had left her behind permanently. 

She also tried to find something to occupy her time so that she wouldn’t have to come home from school right away. She hated going back, only to find Dean on the couch with some girl. He’d blush for just a moment; brush her off by telling the girl that it was nothing, “she’s just like my little sister,” and they’d go off somewhere else, leaving her standing in the doorway. The twinge she felt in her gut whenever this would happen felt strangely like jealousy. Though she’d never admit it. She took a page out of Sam’s book, so to speak, and started hanging out in the public library.

She knew Dean loved her, though. Even if it was just… familial. When she was 16, John had dropped them off in some town in coastal Oregon. Dean was 21 and loving every second of it. Whenever Sam would be off somewhere studying, it would leave her and Dean to find some way to pass the time. He took her to a diner after school every day. Ask her how her classes were. She would deadpan that they sucked, no big deal, teachers were boring everywhere. He would nod, and send that smirk to their waitress.

He took her to the beach, and bought her a tie-dye t-shirt from some dilapidated stand run by a man with the longest beard she’d ever seen. The shirt was way too big on her, but she loved it anyways. She secretly vowed to keep it and wear it until it unraveled. She smiled up at him, and he smiled back, putting his arm around her and leading her away. She blushed, trying to ignore the way his hand felt warm on her shoulder. He told her that the tie-dye was perfect for her. IT matched her personality, colorful and bright. She didn’t see it. She thought she was too quiet, and all the kids at school thought that she was weird. But with him, she could just be. 

No one could make her laugh like Dean. Trips in the Impala (his “baby”) were filled with crude and sarcastic remarks, along with Dean’s favorite music. He’d tell her jokes, tell her about his day. It didn’t matter. He always made her smile. 

She started to notice that everywhere she went with Dean, they became the source of disapproving looks. Perhaps it was because they didn’t look related at all, and she looked a little young for him. She didn’t mind, though. She was flattered at the thought that they would assume she and Dean were together. That made her start thinking more frequently about what it would be like if she and Dean really were together. She didn’t think Dean ever really noticed. 

By her junior year (which was a total bitch, by the way), things started to come apart. Her family was breaking. Sam was a senior, and it was no secret that he did not approve of the life his father and brother were so dedicated to. She caught him stuffing brochures and application material to Stanford in his backpack. When she asked him about it, he confided in her that he was ready to leave. When she looked upon him, she noticed: His eyes weren’t so innocent anymore. He had seen enough, and was ready to try a new life. 

She could sympathize. Empathize. They always empathized with one other, her and Sam. Both had lost so much. While she thought Dean never noticed her subtle instances of awkward childhood crush that seemed to come out whenever she was around him, Sam always did. Sam would stare at her with his puppy eyes, and nod sympathetically. He knew she loved Dean, even if she never said as much. 

Sam and John had lately been engaging in their own Winchester civil war. She tried to talk some peace into them both, maybe break up the arguing a little. They would just tell her to stay out of it. Dean was in the same boat. Shunted aside by rage he wasn’t equipped to quell.  
When Sam finally got up and left, with John telling him to not come back, he gave her a hug and told her to stay in touch. She often wondered why he didn’t do the same for Dean.

The next year was, to say the least, awkward. With Sam gone, and her in school for one more year, it was often just her and Dean left alone while John went on hunts. Dean became more belligerent and angry, the drinking heavier. He would come home raging, asking her through tears why Sam had left him. He asked her why she was so quiet. How she could be so calm about this. What was wrong with her? Why she was always looking at him like that? She had no answer. She thought he had never noticed.

She would help him into bed when he couldn’t do it himself, her skin burning up every time she touched him. She hoped he hadn’t noticed that.  
She couldn’t take being in such close quarters with him without Sam there as some kind of friendly buffer. Without Sam, there was too much risk that she would someday soon tell him how she felt. She couldn’t though. How could she? She was just “like his little sister,” and he was supposed to be a part of her new family. Romance just wasn’t a possibility. She felt trapped.

Sam drunk-dialed Dean one night, telling Dean that he was sorry, but he didn’t feel any kind of responsibility towards “Dad’s crusade.” The conversation ended poorly. Dean threw his phone at the wall. She sat with him. Wrapped her arms around him, and let him cry into her shoulder. She whispered soothing words into his hair until he fell asleep. What a horrible thing for Sam to do! He wasn’t here watching Dean break apart, and she was. She supposed maybe she was breaking, too.

At night, when she felt the walls of their hotel room were closing in around her, she would go sit outside in her favorite tie-dye t-shirt and just stare up at the stars. It was her time to cry. Her emotion was so often restricted to the confines of her brain when the Winchesters were around, that this was her one outlet.  
One night, Dean came out and sat with her. She hadn’t heard him approach. He asked her what was wrong, and she replied that she couldn’t stand the way the family that she had come to love so much was so broken. He put his arm around her, and she broke down. He shushed her, and told her not to cry. He sang her “Hey Jude” under his breath, and she held onto him, and let him rock her until she was calm. 

When she looked up, their faces were inches away. She’d never forget that moment. His eyes were wide, searching. She blushed, and looked away. He lifted her chin so that she was looking at him again. He brought his face closer to hers, and started to close his eyes. She sighed.  
Suddenly, Dean broke away. She no longer felt his heat in front of her. Just mere seconds away from her first love’s first kiss, and he had torn away and gone back inside in an angry huff. She couldn’t understand. What had she done?

By the time she had graduated, she knew what she had to do. 

She’d always wondered what it would be like to live in Seattle. A coffee shop on every corner. A school where she could work on her writing. A place to call her own and get wrapped up in. She was thrilled when she finally arrived. Of course, she felt guilty. She had left in the worst kind of way. She had called John and spoke to him, thanked him for everything. She supposed he could let her go so seemingly easily because his life’s work wasn’t her fight.  
She took off in the middle of the night, putting all of her stuff into a duffle bag, and headed toward the bus station while Dean was still sleeping in the next bed. She had left him a letter telling him how sorry she was, that she would miss him, that it was easier this way, and that she would keep in touch. She knew Dean would be angry, but she just couldn’t be there anymore. 

It had been three years. She was in her third year of college, and she hadn’t talked to Dean in over a year. Sam was a different matter. She heard all about his fabulous life, his fabulous girlfriend, and his desire to go to law school after undergrad. She wished that he would still feel some of the guilt over leaving. She certainly did.

A few nights before Halloween, she had gone to bed wearing the shirt that Dean had bought her. Halloween always made her think of the Winchesters. For obvious reasons, she thought, smiling to herself. The shirt had seen better days. Faded and full of holes, it was still baggy on her.  
She went to bed, thinking of Dean. How she missed him. How she wanted to call him. How she hoped he wasn’t angry at her. How she loved him.  
She heard a thud coming from her kitchen. Groggily, she grabbed the knife under her pillow, snapped on the light, and went to investigate. There, standing in her kitchen, was Dean. 

She had to rub her eyes once more to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. It really was him. He looked even more beautiful than ever, she thought. She noticed Dean looking at her. Scrutinizing her? She didn’t say anything. So he did.

“Hey. Nice shirt.” There was that smirk again. “Listen, we need to go get Sammy.”

Just like that, the love of her life had walked back into her life, and demanded that she go with him. Apparently John was missing? She inhaled sharply.  
She never meant for it to happen. Never meant to fall in love with Dean Winchester. If you asked her, it just kind of happened.

So there she was, in the Impala with him again, not exactly like old times. But not unlike them, either. After a long, silent drive to California, here they were, in front of Sam’s building, not sure if they actually wanted to brave it and go in.

“Hey,” he said. She looked over at him. “Let’s go.”

She nodded, and made to get out of the car, reaching for the handle. But not before he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, kissing her soundly, deeply. Like some dumb Harlequin shit. But this was real. It was warm. It was Dean. 

“I always noticed.” 

If you asked her, yeah, that was okay.


End file.
